


Evil Plans (aka "Remix In MIrror is Closer Than It May Appear")

by Gray Cardinal (Gray_Cardinal)



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, Remix, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-04 00:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gray_Cardinal/pseuds/Gray%20Cardinal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would have been easier to take if only McGee had proven to be as inept at writing as he was at having a social life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evil Plans (aka "Remix In MIrror is Closer Than It May Appear")

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Medie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Blocked](https://archiveofourown.org/works/152006) by [Medie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie). 



> **Disclaimer:** Don Bellisario created NCIS and the denizens thereof, and this remix wouldn’t exist if Medie hadn’t written its wonderfully amusing original-spin edition.

_Admit it_ , Tony told himself for the dozenth time.  _If it wasn’t about you, you’d think it was hilarious._   Hell, it _was_ hilarious – where the rest of the team was concerned.  They were all squirming like preschoolers caught doing things they shouldn’t...well, except for Gibbs, who was probably genetically incapable of squirming.

It would have been easier to take, ironically, if only McGee had proven to be as inept at writing as he was at having a social life.  The truth – which Tony was prepared to deny under the direst tortures he could possibly imagine – was quite the opposite.  McGee wasn’t just good, he was damned good.  His prose had an uncanny ability to showcase just the right detail, and the plot of _Deep Six_ – which he definitely had not lifted from any of their real-life adventures – was devious to a degree that Tony preferred not to dwell on too closely.

No, the trouble was that McGee’s eye for character was entirely too sharp, and what that eye saw in “Special Agent Tommy” bid fair to bring certain of Tony DiNozzo’s most carefully built-up illusions crashing down like so many horribly splintered Tinkertoys.  Especially if his publishers talked him into a sequel....

He stepped off the elevator, immediately spotting not only McGee but the shiny new laptop – definitely not standard government issue – perched on a corner of his desk.  _Uh-oh_.  But as he approached, he noted that McGee wasn’t actually typing; rather, he was staring at the screen with a classic deer-in-headlights expression on his face.

“Taking play to work?” he inquired.

“No, it’s new,” McGee replied.  “Have to break it in, couldn’t get anything done at home, and—”

The light bulb went off over Tony’s head.  “You’re _blocked_ , McEx-Lax,” he said.  Blocked was good; that meant no more of his psyche spattered across the New York Times Bestseller List.

“Am not,” McGee said automatically.  “Well, maybe just a little.  They’re screaming for the first few chapters of the next one – which would be great, except I don’t actually have anything yet.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Tony told him.  “Heaven forfend you should have to go back to your plain McGeekly existence after tasting the fruits of fame and fortune.  Especially fortune,” he added, eyeing the laptop.  “Custom-ordered, I see.  Off the rack just isn’t good enough for our boy Timmy these days.”

McGee just sighed, looking more than ever like a lost little boy.  “You don’t understand.  I have no idea what I’m doing.  Or rather, what I’m going to do,” he said, correcting himself.

_Oh, hell_ , Tony thought.  _Blocked isn’t good after all.  He’s going to be useless for days if I leave him like this.  I have to unblock him – only if I do that, and he writes a sequel as fiendishly observant as the first one was, I may have to kill him.  Any shrink would agree it’d be self-defense...._

Then the second light bulb went off.  _That’s it.  I can do this.  But it’s gonna take some serious tap dancing._   Out loud, Tony said, “Whoa there, McGoogle.  I think my world just tilted a little bit sideways.  Hold on a second while I mark my calendar.”

McGee blinked.  “Mark your calendar?  Why?”

“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime event: Mc-I-Pedia doesn’t have an answer for something.  Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he added, lightly touching two fingers to McGee’s forehead.  “Hmm.  I’d say you’re a little hot – in the ambient-temperature sense, you understand, not the McFabio sense.”

McGee was silent for a moment.  So was Tony; he could very nearly see an actual X-rated thought balloon over the other man’s head, and he didn’t dare risk tempting McGee into actually delivering the curse.  So he waited, let McGee’s inner monologue spin out for just long enough, and then, in his best concerned-colleague voice, said:

“McGee?  You with me?” 

The probie nodded cautiously.  “I guess so.  Why?”

“You know what’s worse than having a movie bomb?”  McGee shook his head.  “Having it hit _big_.  It’s a pressure thing – you feel like you have to top yourself, and that way lies disaster.  It’s why the second movie in a franchise is almost never as good as the first.  Or the second trilogy; do _not_ get me started on the Star Wars prequels.”

“Or the odd-numbered Star Trek films,” McGee said.  “But that helps me, how?”

“Easy, McHemingway; stop thinking about the franchise.  You wrote the first one for fun – so do the same thing again.  You’ve got enough pressure right here, defending America in the name of life, liberty, and the pursuit of geekery.  Have fun with it, Tim.”

Tony paused, taking a step backward.  “Oh, for the record?  The book wasn’t awful.  Could’ve done better with me, of course, but at least it’s not like you shot me, right?”

And he watched McGee’s face as the light bulb went off over _his_ head.  Within seconds, the younger man was typing at nearly superhuman speed.

“You’re shooting me, aren’t you?” he asked, in his best Voice of Alarm.  “You’re seriously shooting me right now.”

“Of course he is,” came Gibbs’ voice behind him, the smell of coffee wafting in its wake, as McGee kept right on writing.  “He’s living the dream, DiNozzo.”

_And once he kills me off,_ Tony thought cheerfully, _my private life will be private again.  And all will be right with the world._

#

As Tony and Gibbs walked away, Tim allowed himself a grin of his own.  _Oh, yes,_ he replied silently, _I’m most definitely shooting Special Agent Tommy.  But no way am I killing him off.  I haven’t had nearly enough fun with him yet._

# # #


End file.
